me and my soul
by mahreemari
Summary: He had saved her, but at what cost? [part one of effigy] platonic.
1. calling me all the time

_Noodle leaned back against her car seat, tapping the glass quietly, the radio low from the station 2D last set before Murdoc slapped his hand away, growling with a threatening fist until the singer shrunk back into his spot in the back seat, Russel snoring away as Murdoc ran the light._

 _They had been driving for hours, the Geep hunkering, the wind flying, tangling her hair._

 _She craned her head slightly, the car slowing to a dead stop in the deserted canyon, kicking up the dust, from behind, 2D hacked, his coughs waking Russel._

 _From under her bangs, her eyes met Murdoc's, his micro-expression slight._

 _She would go soon._

 _Noodle looked up at the clear sky, the sun beaming hot and sweltering._

 _Tonight._

* * *

 _She clambered up the flying island, windmill giant and impressive, red paint chipping from sloppy work, the turbines going, turning, lifting her off rocky. It was filming day, dual music videos to be shot consecutively. Murdoc shoved a fighting 2D through the tiny door of the second shoot, disappearing into the dark tower._

 _Noodle settled on the grass, the ground going further and further from view, the busy sound popping her ears._

 _The stereo sounded from all round and she sat in cue, waiting, letting the motor and the instrumental play, 2D's voice slinked into the air and they were on._

 _Two songs and she would go._

* * *

 _Hidden in the thumping bass, they had missed the undercurrents from afar._

 _Malice brewed._

 _They were followed._

* * *

Helicopters roared around her, guns shooting the falling island with malice, aiming at her like a curse. She ran inside the windmill for cover, listening for a sign that the danger had stopped.

Steps light, she tip toed outside, looking for the tower she had been circling earlier, finding nothing but angry clouds.

She was off course.

Had the others been attacked?

A bullet flew past her ear, erasing the attempt to mull over the others, barely missing getting hit by the rapid fire, she ran back once more into the windmill, seeking cover.

* * *

The floor creaked angrily causing her to trip, heart thumping unsure, wildly flailing.

The island was falling, speeding down, the helicopters flying as the windmill caught fire all around, blaze coming into view, smoke scenting the air in dark smog. From above, the windmill interior began to crack, the constitution failing; Noodle crawled from her spot, the walls crashing, wood splintering on contact.

She wrapped her arms around her legs.

This wasn't planned.

Tears burned in her eyes.

This wasn't planned.

Noodle was scared.

This wasn't planned.

She was going to die.

* * *

The island was hot, scorching, she couldn't see, her lungs wheezing struggling to breathe, heart racing. From beside her, the speakers played on weakly, 2D's voice unaware, freezing as the melody faded, the bullets no longer raining down.

She could hear cracking, rubble dusting her skin, she looked up and choked, her voice caught in her throat.

Planks fell around her, pain stinging, batting the top of her messy hair, she fell back, knocked and oh so tired, blood slipping as she tasted iron.

Was this how 2D felt?

Bludgeoned?

Blurry vision whirling, smoke and smog and pain and fire and blood shouting, her head pounded angrily, excruciatingly, sucking at her conscious.

Noodle took a rattling breath and she was gone.

* * *

"-oodle?"

Who?

"Russ! I found-"

Noodle groaned from her shifting form, eyelids fluttering, eardrums blown. Large hands lifted her up tentatively, careful, grip lessening when a whine escaped her lips.

"Sssh."

Her hand twitched.

"I got you, Noodle."

Her vision focused, the unmistakable blue hair acting like a beacon, sunlight shining down like a halo. Noodle's lips trembled, tears welling once more, gripping his shoulders like a vice as he walked them carefully towards the opening.

"-urry! The building-"

The building churned once more; the ground quaking in huge fissures, forcing 2D to stumble, long legs bending at the knee to keep them both upright.

He treaded carefully, his breath coming fast and hard. Noodle watched him quietly, cheeks stinging from littered cuts, tears drying as she tried to calm, watching the sweat and grime roll off the singer as they ducked into the light.

* * *

The island was decimated. Ruined earth sat in large crumbles, faults and fractures from the collision, upturned grasses set alight with fire still whirling, smoke tunneling from the windmill ruins. The broken construction buried under the disaster, gasoline streaking the air as it leaked from the smashed engine.

2D walked them over to the edge of mass of the crashed sight, trying to find a way down. Russel and Murdoc sat meters below in the Geep, the engine purring, making their way towards them as a shadow casted over them. Noodle watched as Russ looked up, his white eyes widening, his mouth loud and booming.

As if planned, as if it were some kind of horrible joke, some kind of ruthless punchline she had yet to learn of, she looked up in to the setting sky, her heart falling away from her like a punishment.

A bomb.

Next to her, a strangled grunt came out of 2D as he too looked up, she could hear the way his frantic heart hammered before simmering, he looked down at Russ, sparing Noodle a quick glance before catching Russel's attention once more, his eyes darkening further than ever before, determination branding itself, a plan formulating and with dread she felt an inkling of what that plan was.

He was going to throw her.

He was going to stay.

Danger hurtling closer, he acted quick, a shout ripping from his throat and striking her ears as she released a sobbing plea.

"Russ!"

"Please-"

With a strange sort of force, her grip of him slackened, releasing him with shock as he tossed her down. Eyes locked, the sight of him, resigned but happy, tear slipping, hitting her as he dropped her, a smile blinking, blinding her until he was gone from her sight.

"Catch her!"

She fell, helpless the falling bomb hitting it's mark, setting alight with a deafening boom, Russ's arms cushioning her fall as Murdoc raced them away, the tires screeching, burning rubber.

* * *

Tires blown and worn, the Geep halted to a stop, clunkering down, far from the burning sight. They clambered out, Murdoc scanned the residing explosion, cursing loud, Russel hit the back of the Geep with a clenched fist. The sun hung low, silence stretching them thin.

Noodle wobbled forward, her knees hitting the pavement, frozen stiff, gravity taking her prisoner once more, Russel's words bouncing off her ears unheard.

This wasn't planned.


	2. never get another chance

She doesn't stay for long, none of them do. An expanse of tense months, recording like hermits, recuperating as if they couldn't find 2D in the rubble for the weeks that they had stayed on the site had them turn further away from each other. She stayed out of obligations, she had started Demon Days, had written it from her nightmares and dreams, she knew the direction and what she wanted. She had to have stayed, at least for that, Murdoc reasoned to her, for 2D.

So she did, she did until she was done, she did until she was packing up, she did until she was hugging Russel goodbye, she did until she boarded the airplane and it took off without further fanfare.

Noodle looked around, faces of people she didn't know surrounding her, she sighed quietly as she leaned back, ignoring the stewardess as she spoke.

She closed her eyes and kept them shut for the whole ride through.

* * *

She landed without fuss, passengers waking, seatbelts unbuckling, and carryon luggage getting passed. The airport teemed with families and businessmen and passengers, busying themselves in their own worlds without question.

Perhaps she too would find that here.

A world where she belonged.

* * *

The Osaka sun beamed bright, giant buildings towering, bustling. Car horns beeped, sales being shouted, people conversing as they walked. Noodle stood under a tree, hand out to nab a taxi; she stepped back as the cab came up to her, letting her climb in easily. They traded few words; a request for somewhere quiet and away from the city was made.

Once again, Noodle slept for the ride.

* * *

The cab took her somewhere calm, houses and stalls and trees littered everywhere. People walked dazedly in the heat, gone was the city bustle, convenience marts on the corner being the only familiar marker.

She paid the man her bill, standing still as it left back towards the city. She was alone now. In this is sleepy strip of Japan.

Noodle looked up into the sky, finding how often she did that now, and wondered if she'd find what she needed.

Hopefully she could, she wished.

* * *

She spends the day in lazy scrawl, seeing sights, an impressive shrine, aged and old, hidden in the trees, stone steps overgrown with green. The little town she thought was quiet but this, this spot that she finds, this abandoned shrine, is even quieter.

Noodle plucks up a blade of grass, pressing it to her lips, the sound light, mixing with the summer breeze, and marvels at the find.

* * *

She's at a stall now, it's rickety and flimsy but it stands and the man is kind, munching on a dango stick. The sun dropped low, painting the sky in a dipping sunset, Noodle turns her back, watching as people emerge from the day, slipping into the night for a fix.

She drops the stick into the standing bin and thanks the man once more, she grabs her things and goes, her feet taking control to who knows where.

Her stomach growls but she ignores it.

She'll eat an actual dinner later.

* * *

Stars began to bleed into the sky, freckling the atmosphere, the navy pitching bright with constellations clear without the interference of city light. She found herself enraptured, how beautiful it was, constants above her watching down at them on Earth, wrapped with stories and legends and spirits of people that has passed away.

She thought of the band, the mystery of her coming to them, how easily she fit even if she didn't know herself, the struggle to communicate beyond the simple basics. She thought of the fights, the laughs, the music; the touring and adventures, killing zombies they came across in Kong. It was all she knew, her time with them.

Everyone came from somewhere, she knew this, Russel assured her and 2D showed her, her nifty pocket translator in hand, pointing into the midnight sky, she was a star, Murdoc told her.

But that wasn't enough.

So here she was now, lost in Japan, with naught but a clue other than the offhanded comment that her accent sounded like those from Osaka from a fan.

Noodle blinked slowly, the moon coming into view, peeking from the comfortable wrap of wispy clouds.

She would come back to them.

But for now, she wanted to find herself, to be something other than Noodle the guitarist of the British band Gorillaz.

From above, the stars twinkled, winking down on her and she found herself smiling back.

Yes, she knew she would, hopeful in this idle town of tired dreams.

* * *

She's at some random joint, chopsticks in hands, chewing raw tuna between her teeth. She had come in a while ago, stumbling upon the sight like a near mistake, but sticking to stay, the food delicious. Around her tired men sat at the bar, beer mugs and ties wrapped around their heads, scattered at the other low tables are couples, families celebrating, eating a late dinner.

The head chef yells from behind the sushi bar, calling for last rounds.

They make eye contact, a ghost of a smile on the old man's face, his wrinkles gathering, looking fatherly until the contact was lost.

Noodle dips her last piece in soy sauce, crinkling the napkin at her side, the salt kissing her mouth, savoring.

* * *

It's the chef that finds her.

His name is Kyuzo, an old man who lived with his wife in a modest flat, no children between the two.

He sees her wandering the now deserted street and takes her in without fuss, letting her into his home with a kind, enigmatic smile; he gives her a room, bare save for a modest futon and leaves her to her devices.

* * *

She wakes the next morning alone, a plush at the foot of her bed.

The back of her mind curled as she looked at the toy, her hands holding the toy lightly, fingering the frayed fabric.

How strangely familiar.


End file.
